


Possibility

by bitx



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Crying, Cutting, Depression, Disordered thoughts, Dysthymia, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Introspection, Jisung swears a lot lmao, Late Night Conversations, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Recovery, References to Depression, Reflection, Self-Harm, Somewhat graphic mentions of self harm but no descriptions of it, The author is struggling with recovery, author is projecting, past bullying, sad!Jisung, self harm addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28374057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitx/pseuds/bitx
Summary: In which Jisung's spiraling mental health becomes unbearable, and he spills everything to Bang Chan (who has just so happened to have dealt with a couple of his own demons, as well).
Relationships: Bang Chan & Han Jisung | Han
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53





	Possibility

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first post on Ao3, and is heavily based on my own experiences with mental illness, particularly Major Depressive Disorder. I'm also considering writing a fic based on my own multiple admissions to a psychciatric unit with the intentions of helping people understand what they're truly like (with the disclaimer of it being from my perspective and experience, obviously.) Let me know if this is something any of you are interested in!

Staring down at his desk, Jisung sighed quietly, hoping not to alert a working Bang Chan of his fatigue. Changbin had left well over forty-five minutes ago, exiting with an empty threat about what would happen if the other two didn't come home immediately after their "one more thing's" were completed. Jisung had finished his task not long after Changbin had returned to their dorm, while Chan was still typing away on his keyboard. While Jisung had considered just walking himself home, he hadn't wanted to leave Chan, as he knew how unlikely it was Chan would stop working on his own accord. He hoped his presence would motivate Chan to wrap it up, as Chan would want Jisung to get to sleep at a semi-reasonable time. Twenty-some minutes had passed since Jisung had completed his work, all of which he spent lost in thought while attempting to appear busy. These thoughts had started relatively innocent, including what tomorrow's schedule would be like and how he would need to buy new shampoo soon, but had gradually gotten more and more overwhelmingly negative until Jisung felt like he was going to implode if he didn't either voice or act on them. His chest felt uncomfortably weighted, and his leg had gradually stopped bouncing as the numbness he was feeling became too much. It was unbearable, and he needed to do something about it now. If Chan wasn’t there, he would’ve taken a razor to his thigh and not stopped until he was satisfied. He craved that feeling, the cathartic release of built-up emotion on his own body. To him, it had always been calming, steadying almost, and so whenever things became too overwhelming, that’s what he turned to. The high of the pain was addicting, and it had slowly become the only thing that made Jisung feel better, regardless of how temporarily, no matter the situation.

Suddenly, a small creak was heard to his right, the first sound to interrupt Jisung's musings outside of the clacking of Chan's keyboard. Jisung turned in time to see a barefaced and visibly exhausted Chan spin in his office chair to face him. "I finished," Chan cheered limply, raising his hands in a weak celebration dance. Jisung responded with a lackluster cheer, determined to at least attempt to appear appropriately relieved at the news. 

It was the only quality he was consistently proud of. His ability to lie, mislead, and conceal was one built up from years of meticulous practice. Sometimes it scared him, just how easy it had become to invent cover-ups and present them convincingly. “It’s from my cat.” - Jisung couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a cat in real life. "I ate earlier." - Jisung hadn't had a proper appetite in years. "I'm just tired." - Jisung had been feeling numb and hollow for far too long. It was second nature to him at this point, the secrecy providing comfort and keeping him hidden from judgmental eyes. 

As both men began to collect their possessions in silence, Jisung suddenly was suddenly hit with a thought. His leader's exhausted expression and slow, imprecise movements had suddenly taken a new meaning in his head - one of a comparing nature. Chan looked barely human at this point, working himself day-in and day-out in preparation for their upcoming comeback. It was a miracle he was still going. He felt so useless next to Chan. How could Jisung allow himself to feel so exhausted, so empty, so miserable, when Chan was doing more work than him and Changbin combined? A wave of heat rushed over him, ashamed of how he allowed himself to feel like that when Chan had it worse. 

This thought was his breaking point. Before Jisung had time to consider what he was about to say, the words came tumbling out of his mouth. "How do you do it?"  
"Do what?" Chan replied, glancing behind at Jisung with barely open eyes as they trudged out of the studio, one after the other.

“You know, just, it all. How are you so happy with so little sleep? How do you work so much? How do you keep it all together?” There was a frantic urgency in Jisung’s words, like they had to be said immediately, or else they might not be said at all. Chan inhaled a sharp breath, obviously caught off guard, immediately causing Jisung’s brain to kick into overdrive. “Fuck, sorry, that was out of line. You don’t have to answer any of that,” he backpedalled quickly. 

After a brief pause, Chan raised his eyes from the floor to make contact with Jisung’s. He responded, “No, it’s okay. Just took me by surprise, that’s all. Truthfully, I used to struggle a lot. Back when I was a trainee, there were infinitely more bad days than good days, and the good days were more like passable ones than truly good ones. But I guess I just adjusted to all the work, you know? My body and mind just got used to it after a while. And you do learn little tricks here and there. Time management gets easier with practice.”

Jisung, glad Chan had taken his questions to be inoffensive, pressed on, growing more and more emotional, “But, how? I feel like shit all the time, and I don’t even do half of what you do. I’m at my wits end over here!” At this point, Jisung’s bottled-up thoughts and feelings were beginning to boil over, and as he gestured around wildly, his voice broke a little. “I just can’t do this anymore! Every day I wake up and drag myself through the same shit! I feel like a zombie more than a person at this point!” A sob ripped through his body and he started crying, squatting down in the hallway and hiding his face in his hands. Chan stopped walking as soon as he processed what was happening, and crouched down next to Jisung, who continued on with his words. “It’s just too much! Fuck, I can’t continue feeling like this anymore! I can’t! I don’t know what’s wrong with me!” He fell out of his precarious squat, landing with his back against the hallway wall, where he curled up with his knees against his chest, and tucked his face down into his hunched-up form. 

He tried to continue speaking, but when all he could force out was a couple syllables broken up by his own tears, he gave up. Chan awkwardly duck-walked to where Jisung had collapsed against the wall, and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. This just increased the volume of Jisung’s sobs, so Chan quickly redacted it, and murmured to him instead, “Hey, it’s going to be okay. Cry it out if you need to. I’ll stay here the entire time. Just try to focus on your breathing.” 

Attempting to follow his advice, Jisung took a couple shuddering breaths. His sobs returned immediately after however, and so he took Chan’s other words to heart. He sat there, and he cried. He cried until he thought he was going to throw up, and his eyeballs might come out of his head. He cried until his breath came in shaky, irregular gasps that made his whole body lurch as he desperately tried to fill his lungs. He cried until his whole body shook, cradled up between Chan and the wall of the hallway. He cried until he ran out of tears, and all that was left was a splotchy complexion and red, puffy eyes. True to his word, Chan stayed next to him, occasionally offering attempts at reassurance and reminders to breathe. 

When Jisung’s sobs began to quiet down, Chan’s hand returned to his shoulder. This time, it seemed to comfort Jisung, and he slowly raised his head from his knees, avoiding Chan’s worried gaze. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice catching in his throat a little. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! There’s no need to be sorry!” Chan responded earnestly, leaning in at an awkward angle towards Jisung for a hug. “Do you want to talk about what caused that?” he asked as Jisung accepted his hug. 

Jisung let loose a shaky sigh before responding quietly. “I guess I kind of have to, don’t I? You’re not gonna just move past that.” 

“No, I’m not,” Chan admitted, “But I get it if you don’t want to talk about it with me. If you’d rather talk about it with one of the other members or, hell, even a professional, that’s totally okay with me. I just want you to talk about it.”

Jisung nods. He realized while he was crying that Chan would want him to discuss what had happened, but that didn’t mean he was looking forward to it. Taking another unstable breath, he said, “I don’t even know where to start, I guess. There’s just so much stuff.”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Chan suggested gently, trying to hide his relief that Jisung had chosen to open up to him. Seeing him crying like that had really unnerved him, not to mention the desperate words he had been saying before. 

“But, see, that’s kind of the entire problem. I don’t know when it started. It just kind of happened, you know? Like, there isn’t a specific date or anything.”

“That’s okay. Just start with what you remember, and tell the rest as it occurs to you. I don’t mind things being out of order, I just want you to talk about it,” Chan coaxed, worried Jisung wouldn’t end up telling him anything, and instead would return to bottling everything up. 

“I mean, I guess it sort of started during middle school? I wasn’t very popular back then, and I was well aware of it,” Jisung started quietly, taking a pause before continuing on. “I got bullied a lot. I would wake up and dread going to school, ‘cause I knew the other kids would make it miserable for me.” Too afraid to look at Chan for his reaction, Jisung continued on slowly, obviously uncomfortable with what he was admitting. “It got to the point where I hated being alive. I was so sick of being me that I just wanted it all to stop. Fuck, I hate talking about this,” he said as he started to tear up again, burying the heels of his palms into his eyes as he tried to hide his face. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s good that you’re talking about this!” Chan responded, panic in his voice. He was terrified Jisung would suddenly freeze up and never get what he so obviously desperately needed to say out of his system. In an effort to sooth him, he started rubbing Jisung’s shoulder in awkward circles again. Jisung took a few deep breaths before returning to speaking.

“You promise you won’t freak out on me, right? Please don’t judge me for this,” he asked pleadingly, glancing up at Chan for the first time since he started crying with watery, irritated eyes.

“Of course not, Jisung!” Chan said quickly, anxious to keep Jisung talking, “I’d never judge you!”  
Upon hearing that, Jisung took another long inhale, and then started speaking again. “So, uh, to deal with it all I guess, I started hurting myself,” he said nervously, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. He hoped Chan wouldn’t hear his words, even though the logical part of him knew that was impossible. No longer quiet as timid after Chan’s reassurance, to gauge his reaction, Jisung looked up at Chan again, and saw only the slightest amount of visible shock on his face. Unexpectedly to Jisung, his expression was mostly one of compassion and understanding. He nodded at Jisung, silently encouraging him to continue talking. “It started small, but over time it grew. I wasn’t super popular in high school either, and then when I dropped out ‘cause of all the trainee shit, it was like a weight had been lifted off me. But that weight wasn’t really enough weight, you know? I was still stressed as hell, and at that point hurting myself was one of the only things that made me feel better. So I kept doing it. And now, whenever anything’s just too much, it’s all I know how to do to deal with it. Jesus fucking Christ, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud,” Jisung muttered, uncomfortable with what he was revealing. He continued to fidget with his sweater sleeve, waiting for Chan to say something. At the lack of a response from Chan, Jisung looked at him again. He was still just staring at Jisung with no judgement in his expression, just understanding. It also looked like he was trying to fully process what he was hearing, the gears behind his eyes almost visibly turning. “Hey, Chan, if you could respond, that would be nice. You’re kind of freaking me the fuck out right now.” 

Chan blinked twice before speaking. “Shit, sorry. I just, well, that kind of shocked me. Not really shocked, but, like, surprised me. I get where you’re coming from, though. I used to cut as a trainee. It was the only thing I really felt like I had control over,” he shrugged at the end, like it was something he had come to terms with ages ago. Jisung stared up at him, eyes wide with surprise.

“But, how?” Jisung sputtered, “No offense, but you’re, like, perfect. How did you do that without anyone noticing? And how did you stop?” Jisung asked, thoroughly shocked at his leader’s secret. He had felt alone in this situation for so long now that the idea of another labelmate, particularly one he was so close with, turning to the same destructive coping mechanism as him without him noticing was unbelievable to him. Shouldn’t he have picked up on something being wrong? Especially with Chan, who he had spent copious amounts of time with, even as a trainee?

“I did it ‘cause I didn’t know what else to do. I was lonely and scared and stressed, and I deeply hated myself. I never felt good enough. Whenever a new group was announced to debut, I would never be part of the lineup. It was like purgatory. Training for that long while all my friends debuted around me was the hardest experience of my life. I wouldn’t wish it on anybody,” Chan shivered, clearly not enjoying his reminiscence. “I stopped not long after our debut. I realized that, if I was going to take care of you guys to the best of my ability, I needed to be able to take care of myself first. So, I threw every blade I had away and started seeing a therapist. Whenever the urges hit, I would try my hardest to distract myself with work or you guys, or, if they were particularly bad, I would text my therapist. He really helped me a lot in realizing my own worth as a person, and gave me suggestions for better coping mechanisms. Of course, I relapsed a few times, but now I’m almost two years clean!” Chan gave a small smile at that last sentence. “I still get urges sometimes, but they’ve gotten easier to deal with as time goes on.”

“Jesus Christ, man,” Jisung breathed, impressed at his leader’s story. “I don’t even know what to say right now. Good for you for getting clean, that’s really fucking amazing.”

“Thanks. It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but it was so worth it. You know, if you wanted me to, I could try to help you stop,” Chan replied, a small, but tangible, amount of hope filling his eyes and his voice. 

“I’ve tried to stop before, though. It’s so fucking hard. I always fail after a couple weeks. It’s just too addicting,” Jisung admitted, hoping Chan wouldn’t find that too pathetic. The truth was, the thought of stopping scared him a little. What was he supposed to do instead? It was all he had known for so long that he wasn’t sure who he would be without it. Cutting was the only thing he could completely rely on to make himself feel better, even if it was only momentarily. It had its flaws, like the scars, and the pain of accomplishing daily tasks, and trying to conceal what he was doing to himself from everyone else. But to Jisung, the trade-off was excusable, mostly out of addiction and desperation. 

“You just have to remember that your future self will thank you for stopping. There’s people out there who’ve gotten infections so bad that they lose entire limbs over it, people who’ve permanently paralyzed themselves. And, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, it grows. You think you’re in control, but in reality, it’s controlling you.” At this point, Chan’s voice cracked just a little, but after taking a steadying breath, he continued speaking. “One cut becomes five, and those five turn into ten, and those ten to twenty, and so on. It’s never enough. They get deeper and deeper, too. A massive wakeup call for me was when I cut into fat for the first time. I never thought I would let myself fall that far, but there I was, needing to go to the emergency room over a wound I gave myself. Had to get 7 stitches and everything. If that thing had gotten infected, there’s next to no chance my leg would’ve ever worked the same ever again. The doctor said I was lucky I hadn’t done it a few centimeters to the left, cause then I would’ve hit an artery. I could’ve bled out really easily if that had happened, or lost part of the function in my leg. Looking back, the scariest part is that the cut didn’t even seem that deep to me. I wanted to go farther, make it longer, and wider too. The only reason I went to the emergency room was because there was no way I could dance well with an open cut that big on my thigh. I wasn’t even worried about myself, no, I was worried about my future career. My perception was horribly warped as to what was normal, but, truth is, the average person never cuts themselves purposefully in their entire life, never mind does it that severely,” Chan shivered, his face wrinkled and strained due to the painful memories.

Jisung, unsure of what to say, just nodded. The unsureness was partially due to it being unbelievable to him that Chan had suffered so much without him ever noticing, but the way Chan had said those words left no doubt in Jisung’s mind that he was telling the truth. His tongue-tied-ness was also caused because Chan’s impromptu speech had genuinely frightened him. Something about his saddened tone, the way his eyes lowered in regret and shame, the sound of his voice catching in his throat ever so slightly, had made Jisung realize the severity of what he was doing to himself, and what his life could look like in a few years if he didn’t stop. He sat there, eyes trained on the floor, staring at nothing, while he thought about his response. Recovery was still extremely intimidating, but Chan’s story had undeniably made an impact on him. He didn’t want that to be him. He didn’t want to be hospitalized over a self-inflicted wound. He didn’t want an infection so severe he would need surgery. He didn’t want to end up paralyzed because of an addiction he couldn’t kick. For a while, he had noticed what he would do to himself was getting worse and worse, but he had never stopped to consider how far it would go. Where was too far? When was it deep enough? At what point would he stop? No answer for those questions occurred to him, and that scared him even more. 

“Hey, um, Jisung? Could you please maybe let me know what you’re thinking about?” Chan asked, his voice strained slightly higher than usual. “You’re kind of stressing me out here, just staring at the floor like that.”

“Fuck, sorry. I’d just never really thought about it like that, I guess. Never stopped and asked myself when it would be “enough.” Never really thought about how far it could go, or where I could be in a few years. It kind of shook me up a bit,” Jisung explained, hoping to quell Chan’s anxiety. 

“No, no, that’s perfectly okay! I just wanted to make sure you weren’t, you know, planning to go home and do anything drastic. I just want you safe,” Chan elaborated, beyond relieved at Jisung’s answer, and that he was choosing to continue opening up to him. 

“No, I’m good! Not gonna do anything like that, it’s just, fuck, Chan, that really hit me. Put everything into perspective, you know? As daunting as recovery is, that kind of made me feel like I might want to try it again,” Jisung said, hesitancy apparent in his voice. “Maybe not right now, but soon. It might be different with you helping me, I think? Or, at least, there’s a chance it’ll be different. I’ll have someone to help when things get bad, you know? I just really don’t want to be admitted to a psych ward because I cut myself too deeply or something, and honestly, I’m kind of sick of being like this. It’s miserable and isolating, and I wish I had never started. The high barely makes up for how bad it makes me feel the rest of the time.”

“That’s great, Jisung! That’s a good first step! We can get you professional help if you want it, too! And if you do try to recover, please try to remember that recovery isn’t linear, so even if you do relapse, it doesn’t mean you haven’t made progress or that you’re not trying hard enough. Nothing gets better overnight,” Chan said. “And of course, I’ll be there with you every step of the way! If you ever feel the need to come to me ‘cause of urges, or just to talk, or whatever you need, please do so! I’m always here for you.”

“God, you don’t know how much those words mean to me. And can I have some time to think about seeing a therapist or a psychiatrist or whatever? I’m still on the fence about recovery, and I don’t think this isn’t exactly the ideal time to be making big decisions,” Jisung responded with a small chuckle at the end. 

“Yeah, of course! I’m just glad you’re even considering this, cause I know how intimidating it is!” Chan said excitedly. 

“I hate to ruin the sappiness of the last few moments, but my ass and back are fucking killing me. Can we get off this floor now?” Jisung suggested, an audible amount of humour now present in his voice. 

“Of course! It’s got to be what, like 2am?” Chan said, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check. “Close enough, it’s currently 1:51am. Jesus Christ, we should get home now. If anyone’s still up, they’re probably worried sick.” Both men achingly got off the ground, stretching when they stood up. Together, they walked down the hallway they had started down earlier.

“Hey, um, Chan?” Jisung asked, “Could you maybe not tell anyone about this? I don’t think I’m ready for them all to know until I’m at least partially recovered. Just seems a bit too much for me right now.”

“Yeah, no, of course! Don’t worry, I’d never tell anyone about this without your permission,” Chan reassured him as they continued walking.

“Thanks. Same applies to you,” Jisung replied, glad Chan was so understanding. “You know, if anyone was going to find out about this bullshit, at least it’s you,” he continued. “You took it really well.”

“Truth is, I just kind of did what I wish others had done for me. It’s no biggie, really,” Chan said, before they both fell back into comfortable silence. 

Just before entering their dorm however, Jisung turned to Chan one more time, pausing right in the threshold of the open doorway. “Hey, Chan,” Jisung started, “Is there any way I could maybe sleep in your bed tonight? Doesn’t have to be your bed, your room’s fine too. I’m just not sure I want to be left alone after that. I’m scared my brain’ll come to the conclusion everything that just happened was stupid and embarrassing and regretful.” Jisung asked, an underlying, barely detectable current of anxiety present in his voice. 

“Of course! My bed’s always open!” Chan responded understandingly. “I said I would support you every step of the way, and I meant it. And if your brain does somehow end up thinking things along that line, please talk to me about it. I know just how daunting recovery can be, and I’m more than willing to try to lessen the load.”

“Thanks,” Jisung smiled, as he, and then Chan, finally entered their dorm’s entryway for the first time since they’d left late in the afternoon. Maybe recovery really was possible.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm assuming if you read this, that means you aren't doing too well right now. So, let me just remind you that it gets better. I know it's cheesy, but it's true. It may not get better immediately, and it may take years to do so, but it will happen. Recovery is possible. Don't be ashamed of asking for help. It's easier said than done, but once you do it, it's so worth it. Also, again, let me know if a psych ward au based on my own experiences would be something anyone wants to see! Thanks for reading!


End file.
